Tiramisu
by SkippyPanda
Summary: A window of opportunity. A late night pick-me-up.


**Tiramisu**

" _Pick-Me-Up"_

 **Disclaimer** : There is absolutely zero chance that I could ever own Ranma ½ or any of the characters seeing as Rumiko Takahashi already owns them. Don't sue. I have no money.

* * *

Tap tap tap.

The fresh mix of cotton sheets and night air.

Tap tap tap.

A pair of dark amber eyes fluttered open unwillingly.

Tap tap tap.

"Damn it… who is making all that racket?" she wondered groggily.

Akane released a sleepy sigh as her feet connected with the cool wooden panels of her bedroom floor and her yellow pajamas swished around her ankles. She quickly identified that the sound was coming from the direction her window and then upon further examination… that it was Ranma.

Agitation quickly building inside her, she chose her weapon: a dumbbell from off the floor.

Armed and (really always) dangerous, she freed the latch on the window, brisk night air filtering in with a small gust. But of course her visitor did not dare enter immediately. An uneasy smile spread across his face with his speedy recognition of the aforementioned object that was now grasped between slender fingers.

"H-hey, 'Kane…" he started hesitantly, clearing his throat and trying to smother the nervousness with some of his trademark confidence and nonchalance.

The look of tired annoyance remained firmly planted on her face. " _Yes_ , Ranma." she grit out.

He averted his eyes from her face, and spoke instead to the pile of schoolwork on her desk. "I was kinda wondering… if maybe… we could talk…?"

At this rather _unusual_ request, Akane arched a delicate eyebrow, studying the anxious face of her pigtailed visitor.

Her fist clenched around the dumbbell, tightening… and then… relaxing.

She _could_ accuse him of being a pervert that was trying to break into her room, but he did after all tap on her window to wake her up instead. He could've just gotten inside on his own if he had really wanted.

Or she _could_ yell and scream at him for being such a moron and waking her up in the middle of the night, but somehow she was too tired to put forth that much effort...

And whatever this was that he wanted to talk about certainly seemed important enough since it had kept Ranma awake (and he did like his sleep after all)…

So she supposed maybe she would give him this one chance to redeem himself as not such a pervert _or_ moron. It was only fair, right?

* * *

Panic filled him as he watched Akane's fingers tense around the dumbbell.

'Oh shit,' he thought flatly. He was as good as dead, soon to be soaring over the rooftops of Nerima.

He had really wanted to talk to her civilly this time, too. Actually, he was extremely uncomfortable with the thought. Talking to girls was not his expertise, after all.

To his relief and surprise, her grip on the dumbbell loosened, and she set it on her desk amongst some ruffled school papers and scattered pencils.

Crickets chirped in a cacophonous chorus in the background until finally her voice filled the still air, "Sure, Ranma. Let's talk."

* * *

She found herself cross-legged on the smoothed Japanese cedar floor of the dojo, sitting across from a twitching Ranma in silence.

She released a heavy sigh, aggravated by the almost maddening stillness. "Ranma. I'm waiting…" If he was gonna just waste her time then she would just go back to bed.

He cleared his throat.

"Why can't we be friends?"

Of all the questions to be pondered in life, this was not the one Akane suspected kept Ranma up at night.

Her mind was a sea of… blankness.

..He didn't think they were friends?

No! How absurd! How could she be friends with such an egotistical jerk! Her heart softened as she frowned at how harsh her first immediate thoughts were. She tried to beat down the irrational voice, screaming in the background of her thoughts. What was he thinking? Of course, they were friends!

... maybe..?

She couldn't even get past the question itself to give him an answer.

Friends? He wanted to be friends? He didn't think they were already? How could Ranma think that she, Akane Tendo, wasn't his friend? She was always trying to do things for him: trying to be nice, trying not to hit him, trying to control her anger… even trying to cook! And yet even after all of her attempts (usually failed but none the less, attempts), he thought they weren't friends?

Or worse. He was trying to tell her that he didn't love her after all. Her heart felt plunged in a bucket of ice water.

He just wanted to be friends…

* * *

He had said it. And now he was even more terrified than before he had said it. He had faced everything: monsters and demons, potions and pills, cats and psycho-gymnasts, demigods and even death itself. And yet, he had triumphed against all odds.

But this time it was different.

He didn't have control. He couldn't fight for this. He was powerless and helpless and vulnerable…

And he was afraid. Because of all the things he'd ever faced, rejection was not one of them.

Why would he be afraid of rejection? Sure, he was tall, dark, and handsome, and all the other girls seemed to think he was drool-worthy, not to mention the best martial artist in all of Japan, but . . . was it enough? After the way he had treated Akane, trying not to get too close, trying not to get hurt. How could she forget those things he had done? The name-calling, the awkward situations, the constant bickering and misunderstandings, the other girls. . .

And yet there was a part of him that still hoped against all odds that she had even the tiniest inkling of affection for him. That maybe . . . she didn't hate him. That maybe he had a chance.

But there was an even bigger part of him that was ready to face the inevitable. That Akane Tendo didn't give a rat's ass about him. And that all the feelings he kept welled up inside were just a futile waste of time and energy. Because in the end, his heart would be broken when she married the man she really deserved. The one that treated her with respect and wasn't afraid to tell her how he felt. The one that opened doors for her and sent her flowers for no reason and always, always told her how beautiful she looked. That was the kind of man she deserved. Not him.

Now, he had given her the chance she needed to tell him straight to his face that she could never marry, let alone be friends, with such an arrogant, sex-changing freak like him. And he'd walk away and never look back. He had promised himself he would. Fathers, be damned. Because she deserved a normal life. One where she could be happy.

Looking up from the bamboo planked floor, cerulean grey faced a torrent of amber.

There was no running away now.

* * *

Hesitantly, his eyes met hers, and for once, Akane saw. There was a wounded expression lingering in his eyes, the kind of emotion that Ranma didn't normally seem to experience. He was hurting, and Akane didn't want him to stay that way. She didn't want him to be in pain- because, well, she cared. Really she did.

Sure, sometimes she wasn't so nice, and her anger got the best of her, and perhaps she did hit him once or twice… or even frequently, but she had always cared for him. Yes, she had been angry and- even more often- hurt. But now, inspite of all of that history, she could not run from the truth: She was his friend. Even if he never wanted more than that.

"Ranma…"

She took in another shaky breath. Exhale.

"Of course, we're friends. I've always wanted to be your friend."

Beyond school and parents and honor and curses, she had somehow come to care for him. Even when he wasn't suave, or when he teased her, or called her uncute and a tomboy, or when he was completely disgusted with her cooking, she knew he held a special place in her heart, and if he really needed her, she would do anything for him.

She managed to give him a small, reassuring smile. But she still couldn't get past the question. Did it bother him that much? She never could figure out why he had apologized all those times. Sure, he said it was because of their fathers, but he could easily take out both of their fathers and leave. He didn't have to stay here. No matter how honor bound he claimed to be, she had given him the chance to drop their engagement. Or maybe, as many times as she had accused him of being a jerk, he couldn't stand to hurt girls. He never tried to hurt Ukyo or Shampoo. Not even Kodachi! But why then? Why did he hurt her?

* * *

She could see right through him. He just knew she could. Mentally, he made a short list of the things to pack, trying to recall just how much yen he had left after his last Nabiki encounter. Akane looked away quickly, still preoccupied with her thoughts. She was probably thinking of the easiest way to break it to him. Even if she did hate his guts, she wasn't heartless.

His head snapped up. He had heard her voice, but not the words.

"I've always wanted to be your friend. "

Dumbfounded, he searched her eyes. He should've been relieved, but instead he was even more disappointed. She wanted to be _friends_. _Just_ friends. Trying not to display on his face the sinking feeling he felt as the hollow of his chest seemed to shrink. But if she didn't _hate_ him... and he definitely didn't hate her... why did they treat each other this way? He could have smacked himself. It had taken him long enough just to figure out he had feelings for Akane. Truthfully, part of him had always known, it was more admitting this particular fact that consumed the greatest amount of the time they had together.

He looked up long enough to catch her uncertain smile.

Why?

* * *

"Why are you asking me this tonight...?" The curiosity in her voice demanded he tell her the truth.

"I just thought… maybe..."

She couldn't believe he was so clueless about this. Couldn't he tell? Didn't he ever notice?

Well okay. That part probably wasn't his fault since she purposely tried to conceal any feelings she might have towards him. She had to admit that for most of the two years they had spent together she would rather have died than confess she cared about him at all. But had she really done that good of a job of hiding her feelings? Well. Ranma never was the brightest crayon in the box when it came to relationships.

"Ranma, you have got to be one of the most dim-witted people I have ever met when it comes to girls."

He looked startled. Possibly even more startled than when she had told him she didn't hate him.

".. I...uhh... I mean... "

She rolled her eyes. Is it even possible for someone to be this slow?! They had lived together, fought together, ate together, studied together, traveled together; Lord knows they had been through everything together!

"Ranma, why can't you just ever say what you feel!"

He was, for a lack of better words, dumbstruck.

"Geez, Akane! I don't know! I'm just not good at this kinda stuff!"

"At what kind of stuff?!"

"You know— sissy stuff!"

"Sissy?! Oh now it's SISSY to say you like me!"

"Why should I have to say it _IF YOU ALREADY KNOW."_

"BECAUSE YOU—wait what?"

* * *

He was a statue. A statue consumed by complete and utter terror. Typically this was the foot-in-mouth moment. The Akane-pulls-out-the-big-mammoth-of-a-mallet-and-sends-him-into-outer-space moment. Instead he was in no-man's land where no Ranma had ever dared to traverse before— and probably never would have on purpose for that matter.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing upon every star, planet, and intergalactic force that was out there to please let him wake up from this wreck of a dream.

And he waited.

* * *

She stared at him for a long time. She hadn't meant _**like**_ like; she wasn't even sure why she had jumped from being honest about his feelings to their relationship. But there was something more troubling to her about the whole exchange: why **did** she need him to say it? Maybe she'd been the one struggling for verbal validation when really Rama had been offering her the only reassurance he knew how to give: defending her, saving her, and in the end even if only for a few shining moments, managing to produce those few words of tangible proof. To be sure, they were sparsely sprinkled in amongst all of the truly idiotic things he managed to do or say on a regular basis- but they were there.

Every morning that he slowed his pace to walk with her to school.

Every time that he stepped in to protect her (even if she didn't think she needed it.)

Every day that she woke up and he was still there instead of leaving to find the cure for his curse.

He was always choosing her— even if he never said it outright.

And maybe it wasn't in the traditional sense. After all, he wasn't exactly the prince charming of her childhood dreams. But if there was anything she'd learned about Ranma, it was that he was loyal. To a fault some might even say.

And in so many ways, he'd chosen her all along, unbeknownst to her.

* * *

"Ranma."

His eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice. It seemed to echo across the hardwood floors and reverberate off the walls in the empty dojo.

"Are you hungry?"

His stomach growled in spite of the answer he was actually going to give. Akane's laughter rang out, a chorus of surprise and amusement filling the room, and he found himself being pulled up by her warm hand.

* * *

He watched her rustle around in the freezer drawer, relieved that she was presumably not going to be cooking something but equally interested in what had sparked such a change of events. She breathed an exclamation and drew out a box from the depths of the cold, eyes twinkling with girlish excitement. He raised an eyebrow. What on earth was she up to…?

"It's tiramisu," she said matter of factly, retrieving a small plate from the cabinet.

"Tira-what?" He wasn't sure if that was another name for "previously prepared Akane poison food."

She turned from the silverware drawer to cast a bewildered look in his direction. "Ranma, don't tell me you've never heard of Tiramisu!"

"Nope- and I've never eaten it either." She seemed to always be forgetting he didn't spend most of his childhood in quiet little suburban Nerima. He spent most of his time on the road with his pops and was lucky if he even knew what his next meal would be.

"Well then allow me to educate you. It's an Italian dessert- like a cake really." Well that was promising. He liked cake.

"My mother always used to keep some in the freezer. She studied abroad in Europe for a semester while she was at university," she explained as she plopped down beside him at the table, plate filled with this mysterious Italian cake. "When she was pregnant with me, she used to send my dad out at all hours looking for tiramisu in the market." Now that was easy to imagine. Soun Tendo scouring the local bakery, desperately begging the store owner to help him find this strange Italian cake for his pregnant wife.

"Then sometimes when I couldn't sleep when I was little, she'd sneak downstairs with me and we'd split a slice from her secret freezer stash." She handed him the other fork. "Go on- try it. I promise I didn't make it myself." No need to say anything more- he dove in.

* * *

"What's it called again?" His question was muffled by his next bite. She rolled her eyes.

"Tiramisu." She heard him softly repeat it to himself in hopes of committing it to memory.

"It means 'pick me up.'" She heard herself add the words, although she hadn't realized she'd remembered that tidbit from her late night chats with her mom.

The kitchen dissipated into a comfortable silence. She glanced over at him from the corner of her eye as she savored the memory of her mother, the quickly vanishing dessert in front of her, and this moment with Ranma. All pick-me-ups in their own way.

She was glad Ranma had decided to wake her up. Heck, she might even give him credit for being mildly courageous since her normal response to late night rappings on her window was typically less than thrilled. She didn't need Ranma to tell her why exactly. For now, it was enough that he would still be here tomorrow when she woke up. They'd walk to school together and argue and she'd probably mallet him into next week for some reason or another.

Ranma suddenly put down his fork. He'd eaten 85% of the cake (mostly due to the unnatural rate as which he seemed to consume all food) but had left the last bite. Admittedly he appeared to be eyeballing it. Sometimes there's only so much you can ask of a guy like Ranma. She allowed a small smile to escape.

* * *

He nodded to her, "It's all yours, Akane."

She was staring at him, eyes widened and fork still pressed between her fingers. She seemed awfully mystified for something as simple as him offering the last bite. Was he really that much of a food hog normally? Okay, yes, undeniably that was true. But really? What was this shock and awe? A second ago when he'd put down his fork she'd been deep in some kind of reverie, a kind of bemused expression passing over her face. Now she looked like she'd been the one hit with a mallet.

Women were such funny creatures.

* * *

"I'm all yours, Akane"

She almost dropped her fork. Speechless, she gaped, searching his face and her memory for a correction. She'd presumed he was going to do a really unlike Ranma thing and offer her the last piece of cake. But instead he'd done something even _**more**_ unlike Ranma. Was she hearing things? Was her imagination playing tricks on her?

She wasn't sure her imagination could ever be _that_ active, even for this late at night. He obviously didn't realize… So the real question was- should she tell him?

* * *

He sighed, a little exasperated at her lack of response. He only had so much willpower here to resist a good piece of dessert. He nudged the plate towards her.

"No, really, Akane. I mean it."

He heard her stifle a giggle and look back up from the plate, eyes smiling from some private joke.

She scooped the last piece onto her fork, shaking her head.

"I know, Ranma. I know."

After all, she did already know.

* * *

 **Author Note:** Sitting on my computer for a while- just a little whisp of a short story that wanted to say: Hello world! - SP


End file.
